Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Some days I feel like there is so much to say and not enough
words to express the truth that I want everyone to know. I start writing and nothing comes out the way
I want it to as a jumble of different thoughts collide on the page, fighting
for priority. So this week I wrestled
with what exactly I needed to write about.

I decided on this, a letter to the deluded who think they
are disqualified from being desired.

Treasured One,

You are not defined by your behavior. You look at yourself, your addictions and
failures and I all you see is a tangled mess of something that’s not good
enough. Not good enough to be loved by
another human being. Not good enough to
achieve your dreams. Not good enough to
be a leader. Not good enough to be a
friend. Not good enough to be a father
or mother. Most certainly, not good
enough for God. You look at yourself and
that’s what you see… not enough.

So then beautiful things come into your life and you reject
them. Moments of joy and glimpses of
contentment peek into your darkness and you sabotage them as you remind
yourself, “I am a disgusting mess; I don’t deserve that.” Deeper and deeper you tread into destruction
as you listen to the voice convince you that’s who you are and that’s who you
will always be.

And you believe it because that’s all you have ever known.

I’m here to tell you…

THAT.

IS.

A.

LIE.

The wonder of grace is in its scandalous pursuit of people
like you and me whose reality is more often depravity than holiness. That’s what makes God so wonderful really,
that He would chose a whore to call His bride.

Jesus.

The God who chose to enter this world of vicious aggression in the most vulnerable
of ways, born in the fragility of a baby.
The God who walked this earth with blistered feet and chose the
misunderstood life of a rebel rabbi. The
God who reached down and washed the feet of his best friends even when they
didn’t understand why. The God who
embraced the people that ruined His reputation and dirtied his robes but
rebuked the “holy” heroes.

We expect that God to look at us and expect us to clean up before He can
embrace us?

He can touch diseased dead and stand confident before demons
but He cowers away from us? Do we really
believe that?

He willingly walked to His death, facing excruciating and unbearable torture,
because He so desperately wanted to embrace the very men who plunged the nails
into his wrists.

That’s how much He loves us.

Us.

Broken us.

You look in the mirror and say, “I am a disgusting mess; I don’t deserve that.” You think grace is cheap. Don’t you see, the creator of this universe
paid for it with the life of His son!

You have already been cleaned.

Yes, you fight with your addiction and your brokenness while you sparkle of
holiness paid for by Christ… because He wants so desperately for you to know
you are loved. He needs nothing from you
and gives everything to you because He is completion and you are need. That’s the God that He has always been, that
He always will be, because He is full and we are empty.

There are no words I can write, no eloquence that I can speak with, to make you
believe in the splendor of grace. But I
hope that you do because there is peace in it.
Because it’s been paid for.
Because you are clean now.
Because all He wants is to love you, right here, right now, in this
moment and all that follow it. He sees
all that you are and calls you “Perfect, Pure, Mine.”

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Last night I co-hosted my very first cyber AA meeting. For the most part it’s like a normal AA
meeting, there’s a focus on one of the 12 steps, we do a reading, say our
serenity prayer, and share our struggles and breakthroughs as related to our
topic. Basically the only difference is,
instead of it being a tangible in person meeting, it’s online. I am completely a supporter of physical, get
together, meetings and I think it’s tremendously important to the recovery
process. However, I see the value of the extra anonymity that online
interaction affords.

I enjoyed it immensely, there is just something about being in a place where
you know others can relate to your darkness that brings comfort. Amidst the discussion of the evening was a
familiar exclamation of wanting nothing to do with the spiritual aspects of the
program due to the fact that “religion is pointless and depressing.” I couldn’t help but smile at the statement
that sounded so much like mine at the start of my recovery. I pondered how to respond when another
attendee beat me to it. His answer rang
true for me and stuck in my mind the rest of the evening.

“Religious people don’t want to go to hell, spiritual people have been there
and don’t want to go back. Religion is
pointless; spirituality has power.”

The more I think about that statement the more I get behind it. Religion offers
you a list to be kept so as to avoid punishment. It gives you boundaries that leave your only
choice after crossing them as denial. It
drives you to ignoring your brokenness as you strive for perfection. It calls for behavior modification without
healing your unbelief. Religion is
absolutely pointless.

Spirituality, living driven by the spirit, relating to others’
spirits, is so vastly different than religion.
Spiritually is very aware of brokenness.
It feels pain and admits weakness.
It is in tune with how devastating emptiness can be and it offers you
redemption while you’re in the midst of it.
Where religion offers you a way to change your actions, spirituality
offers you a way to fill your need and heal your heart. It sees the darkness you’ve walked through
and says, “Look what all I give you, you don’t ever have to be that person
again.” Spirituality has power.

So many people walk this earth believing that God is concerned
with their religious affiliation and they miss the point of who He is. We think God is so focused on our behavior
that we are completely blind to the reality of Him pouring love on our hearts,
embracing our brokenness, and wooing our spirits. We picture God as a demanding religious
figure with a list of people who have been good enough, behaved well enough,
and done enough things to earn his favor.
This is how we see God, and it makes it hard for us to embrace Jesus.

See, because Jesus was different than what we think God
is. Jesus didn’t hang out in temples
with the white robes of the priests or demand sacrifices before offering
forgiveness. Jesus walked this earth
with dusty feet in tattered sandals. He
bent down and embraced people in their sin and offered love to those religion
had rejected. Jesus brought wine to the
party and accepted dinner invitations from thieves. Jesus had worn hands and sunburnt skin and he
loved while our nails pierced through them and our whip tore it from his
body. How can we reconcile that Jesus
with a God who we believe is like the ones who murdered him?

We can’t. Because that’s not who God is.

That’s why He sent His Son, because we thought that’s who He was. We live lives entrenched in sin because we
think that’s who He is. We run from Him
because we think that’s who He is. We
live bound to addiction, suffering, depression, and unrest because we think
that’s who He is.

That is not who He is.

Jesus is who He is.

He offers us His full favor even when we abuse it. He pours affection on us even when we are
abrasive. He pursues our hearts even
when we run far from him. He fills the
emptiness even when it seems like a black hole.
That is who God is. That is what He sent Christ for, so that we
could know Him and we could have Him.

What a fantastically abnormal God we have, that He would
want to be one with a weary spirit like me!
Be encouraged this week knowing that His love for you is not dependent
on your behavior. Find freedom in the
truth that His fullness is yours when you are at your most empty. Know Him; have Him.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Valentine’s Day, or as I like to call it, “Single’s Awareness Day” is soon upon us. Red and pink deck the halls of retail stores everywhere. Florists work late into the night creating the perfect flower arrangement for that special someone. The smell of chocolate wafts through our homes. It’s the day set aside to celebrate love… our form of love.

What we as humans believe about love becomes quite evident by how we celebrate Valentine’s Day. We get gifts for our lovers out of obligation; we buy cards for our crushes hoping the feeling is returned; we flirt with romance hoping to give depth to our marriages. This is how the world loves: I give to you and you give to me.

Two way love.

We see this in Scripture even simply in the language that is used. In the Hebrew (Old Covenant) there are 7 words that mean love, 3 are used most often in the Bible.

RAYA: Friendship Raya love is about your friend, your everyday companion, and, in return, you know that you are loved just the same. This can be deep friendship or it can lead to AHAVA.

AHAVA: Commitment Ahava is about a ferocious love. The “I’m not going anywhere” kind of love. An “I know that I’ll screw up and you’ll still be there for me” kind of love. The Bible describes Ahava love as “long suffering”. Ahava is also a deep human love for God.

All three of these words for “love” require reciprocation, they reflect a shadow of how God loves us but still fail to show the clarity of how limitless His love for us is. These words strain to explain a love that we just can’t quite fathom the vastness of, and they still make love out to be two way.

When we think about God and how He loves, so often this is what we think. We use our humanity to try and understand God: I give to Him and He gives to me. We think He needs something from us before He can love us. We bring Him withered flowers and say, “Here, please love me?”

Before Christ, we had no comprehension of one way love; we didn’t even have a word for it! Jesus comes into the picture and completely turns our understanding of what love is upside down. While we were still sinners He offered us righteousness. While we crucified Him, He forgave us. While we spit in His face He embraced us. Then He says, “This is the way I love.”

In the Greek (New Covenant) the word that is used for this love is “Agape.” It means “unconditional, no-strings-attached, and without reservations love.” This is the kind of love that follows Christ

God needs nothing from us. His love is not limited by us. He is the giver, we are the receivers, and the only way He loves is 100% one way.

Because God is complete, full, lacking nothing that means that no amount of good (or bad) can affect who He is. The very creation of man was birthed in God’s desire to pour out his limitless love. Then we screwed that up by trying to do something to gain more from Him, not because He demanded it but because Satan did. We weave in and out of a world that is founded on that belief, the belief that one way love just isn’t possible.

That’s the beauty of God, really, that He is so wildly different than this world. That He doesn’t play by our rules. Even now in this moment when we’re:

Angry

Bitter

Impatient

Lustful

Jealous

Liars

While we live contrary to everything that He is; He loves us. He embraces us. We argue that we are undeserving (because we are) and He says, “My perfect child, you are mine, I love you, you are enough.”

The most intimate desire of God’s heart is this: That we would know how loved we are by Him and then show others that kind of love. Not because He needs it, but because we do. We need to be free from our worth being dependent on whether or not others love us back. We need to be able to relate to others without fear of rejection. We need others to be able to relate to us without worry or doubt about our intentions.

So then, the call is this, stop trying to love God enough and enjoy being loved by Him. Take in the waterfall of intimate, undeserved, limitless, unstoppable love of Christ. Let him wrap you up in an embrace, lay your head on His chest and listen to His heart beat to the rhythms of His delight in you. Rest in His pleasure, get caught up in his glory, and let who He is become one with who you are. Let Him complete you.

Then throw a party! Go love the broken. Go give to those who only take from you. Offer forgiveness to your attackers. Give grace to the coworker who does nothing but create drama for you. Pour love on your spouse that nags you or undervalues you. Serve your parents even when they don’t tell you thank you. Point this world of shattered people to the God who needs nothing from them and gives them everything. Do it not because God needs it, but because we do.

Monday, February 10, 2014

A few fun facts about me:
I am passion driven; I am entirely too honest; I sometimes have no
filter at all when it comes to being sensitive to people’s feelings; and I read
people extremely quickly. Some of those
things are wonderful assets that make me the beautiful mess that I am, but they
also create difficulties when it comes to relating to other people.

Relating to some people comes extremely easy to me, I love
the rebels, the broken, the dark horses, and the outcasts. I share a kindred spirit with them; I understand
their struggles. I am quick to offer
forgiveness and grace to them even when they hurt me. Other people… I struggle
understanding. These “others” I like to
call my Potato Salad People.

I live in the south, so potato salad is an appropriate side
dish for any and all occasions. It’s
really popular, southern people love potato salad. I, however, do not. It makes no sense! Potato salad has all the makings of something
wonderful: potatoes, mayo (or mustard), way too many calories, and even
sometimes pickles! I should love potato salad, and so, any time I am somewhere where
it is served, I try it. Every single
time, and every time it’s just as disgusting as I remember it to be.

I desire whole heartedly to love and give grace to those who
frustrate me. I want to love those who
are most unlovable. I really want to
like potato salad!

I love grace when I’m on the receiving end of it. I love to take advantage of it, to bask in
its glory, and am quick to lean on it when I fail (which is quite often). I’m not always so great at grace when it
comes to relating to potato salad people, though. I admittedly have a shorter temper, I am
quick to see faults in them and overlook my own, I sometimes find joy in seeing
those who have hurt me get “justice.” It’s
only human of me, I suppose. At least,
that’s what I tell myself, to justify my hoarding of grace.

I blatantly overlook the truth that really I am just putting
limits on what grace can do, on what one way love can do, on what God can
do. I build up walls in my heart to
section off what parts I allow God to touch, dams that hold back the fullness
of the river God wants to overtake me with.
I think, well, I just can’t give grace to that person, I’ve tried 100
times and I just can’t. So I write them
off. I write them off, just like so many
people have done to me, as a lost cause.
Maybe we really aren’t so different.

I’m beginning to realize that beauty of God’ banquet is the
variety in it. See, because God is never
limited by our expectations of him. His
river doesn’t stop flowing just because we put up dams. His table is filled with meat, cheese,
chocolate, milk, mac and cheese, and yes, even potato salad. His grace is scandalously inclusive that way.

When I sat down to write this I didn’t really have a plan in
mind for it, I like to have a plan. When
I began I didn’t really know how to end it because I feel quite unresolved on
this subject.

I am torn between my desire to let the river flow and my
craving for control of the dam.

I am torn between my want to like potato salad and the way
it turn my stomach.

I am torn between grace and justice.

I am torn.

And I am burdened by the tearing.

I have been feeling recently, like a failure. Like I’ve been a piss poor example of the
grace I preach so fervently, and I have.
I am thankful that my worth is not defined by that failure. I am relieved that grace is not withheld from
me even when I fail to show it.

I am comforted and unsettled by how unfair grace makes life; it’s a beautiful vulgarity.

I guess my final point will be this; don’t be disheartened
by the times you fail to like potato salad.
Instead, remember the beauty of the banquet and the fullness of the
table, let that be your focus. Take down
your dams and just let the river flow, you might be amazed at what new life it
brings with it. Enjoy the journey that
taking in Christ leads you on. Embrace
the struggle.

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

I used to be really good at lying. I mean, I was REALLY good at it, to the point
where I became a different person depending on who I was with at the time. I could easily dodge specific questions so
that no one really knew anything deep about me.
I was a master of manipulating situations to facilitate my needs. I was a chameleon, ever changing with my
surroundings in an attempt to survive the jungle that is high school.

On my journey of recovery I was challenged to embrace a
radical honesty, of sorts. It required
the quitting cold turkey of my conman ways, which was way more difficult than I
thought it would be! I learned very
quickly that the world loves liars. Even
more than the world loves liars, the church does.

We do, you know? We
love being lied to. Of course, if we
really examined this, we would never admit to the truth of it; but it is
true. We walk into our well maintained
buildings, with a smile on our face and a pleasant answer to every question of,
“How are you?” All the while our
families are falling apart and our boss is beating us down. We are burnt out, exhausted,
and addicted with no hope of recovery.
So we lie. Every Sunday, we put
our mask on and grasp at holiness, shattered silhouettes dreaming of
completion. And we are praised for how
well we fool one another. We love the liars.

Why? Why do we love the liars? Here are 3 reasons why I think we do:

<1> Authenticity creates vulnerability.

There is never a possibility for pain if you never take off
your armor. If you spend your life
hiding behind a plastic version of yourself then the real you never really gets
any wear and tear. We fear a broken
heart so we lie. We lie to ourselves and
say we don’t really care. We lie to
others and tell them that we’re OK. We lie
to God and tell Him we believe that He loves us. We lie because the truth is just too
painful. The rest of the world is
content with our lies because no one wants to be vulnerable. No one wants to face that hurt. We just push it into the darkest corner of
our hearts and push a plastic plant in front of it, hoping no one will see how
broken we really are.

<2> Authentic people always expose the dishonest.

This fact has become quite real to me over the past few
years. In a world of masks the person
who dares to take hers off will become an immediate threat to those who have
grown so attached to their own. It
becomes really easy to spot a counterfeit when it’s right next to something
genuine. When someone stands up and shares
their hurts and their struggles it becomes dangerous for those who so tightly clutch
their fabricated righteousness, and their false perfection is exposed for the
impossibility that it is. This is why
our conversations in the church scratch the surface of our behavior while our lives
fall apart behind the scenes.

<3> Authenticity is hard to control.

I loved being a conman because it gave me control. It allowed me to think I had some kind of say
in how my life would be. I was made to believe
for so long that God was angry with me, that he demanded impossible things from
me without ever giving me the ability to even begin to accomplish those
things. I decided if I couldn’t control
how God saw me I could definitely control how other people saw me. And I was right, lying, manipulation, psychoanalyzing
people, it all gave me some sort of control over how others saw me. None of those things changed the fact that I
was still a broken soul in bondage to my own beliefs. No one could help me because I made everyone believe
I was fine. We do that a lot, especially
in church, pretend we are fine. Honesty
is harder to reign in. It doesn’t sit
quietly in a pew and take notes. It jumps
up and says, “Hell, yeah!” at a great truth and dances to a powerful worship
song. Honesty isn’t afraid to disagree
with the pastor. Honesty is real, radical,
raw, and in your face. Honesty doesn’t
stay within the boundaries. That’s what
makes honesty so hard to embrace, really, we fear being out of control.

It’s interesting to me how authenticity always accompanies
Christ. I mean, have you read some of
Jesus’s interactions with people, He was pretty direct! What about Paul? He definitely is not one to pull punches or
sugar coat truth! More than that even,
Christ attracted the broken, the hurt, the incomplete and didn’t ask them to be
anything but what they were. He didn’t
demand that they fix themselves; that’s what He was there for. Should our churches not be a place that breed
authenticity? Should they not create
spaces where it’s ok to be honest about struggles? Shouldn’t our goal be to help the hurting
find healing?

It all begins with honesty.
We must dare to be genuine, venture to authenticity, and risk taking off
our masks. Be confident in who Christ
has made you. Open your eyes to the
truth of God’s pleasure in you and let that ignite the desire to be honest with
those around you.

Who I Am

Writer. Radical. Former addict sabotaged by extravagant, scandalous, excessive grace. I believe in a God who does big things in small people; the God of royal shepherds, fearful warriors, and rebel pastors.